Notes on Las Vegas

This is a young city, where buildings are considered aged at 20 years (compare that to my house in MA which was built in 1893). And recession be damned, this is a growing city, with last week's unveiling of City Center and an additional 4,000 new hotel rooms. The Strip is slated to double in size in the next couple decades, stretching south to reach the M resort.

Water conservation is a major issue, and houses are allotted a certain amount of water usage annually. Or you can drill private wells. The tap water here does not taste very good; Lake Michigan is better by far, and the Finger Lakes top that. If you destroy your lawn by covering it with gravel or sand, you can get compensation from the government by sending in photographic evidence. Housing and land are cheap and plentiful, which makes the city surprisingly car friendly and conversely, pedestrian unfriendly. Parking on the strip is generally free at casino lots, and free with validation downtown. I can't think of another urban center that boasts free parking. There is no subway system (other than the Strip lightrail), but the bus system seems fairly extensive. Walking down the Strip is a slow process due to crowded sidewalks and the overhead crosswalk system. Each time you cross a street, you have to climb up and down a flight of stairs (or take the escalator). The streets are laid out on an imperfect grid system similar to Chicago's, with 8 blocks to a mile, and the Strip dividing addresses east and west. Avoid driving on the Strip whenever possible; it can take over an hour to traverse the four miles. However you can travel 60 or 70 blocks in just 10-15 minutes if you head away from the Strip.

There is a vibrant "Chinatown" just a couple miles west of the Strip, a series of shopping plazas and storefronts along Spring Mountain Road. I found it quite diverse compared to other asian enclaves, which are generally dominated by one ethnicity. In this two mile stretch though, there are strong Korean, Japanese, Vietnamese and Filipino offerings. Prices are low, possibly due to the proximity to CA. For a dollar, you can pick up 12 heads of garlic, a pound of tilapia or 3 pounds of limes. Restaurants are abundant and many are cash only. The pho I had here was just okay, but the duck feet and reindeer were excellent.

Las Vegas must be the only city in the world which characterizes itself by imitating other cities. In the four miles of the Strip, you will pass a mock Eiffel Tower, the Statue of Liberty, Venetian gondolas, an Egyptian pyramid, Roman columns and a medieval castle. And in case that's not enough to grab your attention, you can watch an exploding volcano outside of the Mirage (colored water and lights set to music) and scantily clad bucaneers at the Treasure Island pirate show. I was warned that this was NOT family friendly, but opted to drag the crew there anyway for maximum hilarity. Unfortunately, it is currently closed for the winter.

I didn't take any of the prostie cards that they pass out on the Strip (figured they might be infectious), but Steven and Stanley grabbed them by the dozen (for Irony, I imagine). Having collected about fifty or so, they then decided to try standing on a corner and passing them out. This was rather unsuccessful. Then Stanley tried to drop one into a homeless guy's hat, and the homeless guy got mad and started yelling after him, "Boy! Leave me alone!"

Hoover Dam and the Grand Canyon

The artificiality of the Strip aside, the Las Vegas area actually has lots of natural attractions worth seeking out. Red Rock Canyon is a short drive away, and you can get to Lake Mead and Hoover Dam in less than an hour. With 4-5 hours of driving, you will reach the Grand Canyon in AZ, and if you drive west instead, you will hit Death Valley in CA. With a bit of internet scouting, I found a $79 bus tour that would take you to see Hoover Dam, Lake Mead and the Grand Canyon in an all-day excursion. So, one morning at 5 am, we all bundled up and hopped onto a tour bus to escape the city.

Hoover Dam was constructed at the height of the Great Depression, and completed in 1936, under budget and 2 years ahead of schedule, an amazing feat for a public works project. Lake Mead is the reservoir created by the dam. At completion, Hoover Dam was the world's largest hydroelectric power generating facility and the world's largest concrete structure. Currently, it is ranked 38th in hydroelectric power generation.

If you are ever depressed about the state of American science, hearing about the ingenuity of Hoover Dam construction will cheer you up. Two cofferdams were constructed to create a dry riverbed for construction. To divert the flow of the Colorado River, four diversion tunnels were blasted into the walls of Black Canyon, with a combined length of over 3 miles. To smooth the sides of the canyon, high-scalers were suspended from the canyon walls with ropes. They strategically placed dynamite in crevices, then swung away just in time to avoid the blast. There were 112 deaths recorded during dam construction, but contrary to rumors, no bodies were buried inside the dam. However, there is a dog buried inside, a mascot adopted by the construction workers.

When the Bureau of Reclamation solicited bids for dam construction, there was no single company with the capabilities to construct a dam of this size. So, six construction firms on the West coast banded together to bid for the contract. Appropriately, they called themselves "Six Companies." This being the height of the Depression, stable jobs were scarce and Six Companies was able cut corners on worker safety and pay. When striking workers demanded greater access to water and better working conditions, they were fired and replaced.

Two years after construction began, engineers were ready to pour concrete for the dam. Since concrete contracts and generates heat as it hardens, the dam was built in interlocking trapezoidal pours to prevent cracking. If the dam had been done in one single pour, it is estimated that it would have taken 125 years to cool and harden.

As you drive over the top of the dam, you cross the border from Nevada to Arizona, or vice versa. Since AZ doesn't observe DST but is in the Mountain time zone, there are two clocks on either side that show the correct time.

The dam is curved like an eggshell to better distribute water pressure. Two spillways protect the dam from being overtopped by water. These have been used only 3 times in the history of the dam. Lake Mead contains over two years worth of water from the Colorado River. You cannot overemphasize the impact that Hoover Dam had in reshaping the development of the West. Looking at the dam, I felt a mixture of awe, pride and terror at mankind's ability to reshape his environment.

The kids

The old people

Afterwards, we continued west through Arizona to the Grand Canyon. This is the first time I've been in a desert climate, and the mountains are drastically different from the verdant Appalachians that I am accustomed to seeing. I fell sleep for a couple hours, and when I woke up, the landscape had morphed from arid desert dirt to picturesque snow-capped mountains and pine trees. Looks like I came all the way from Chicago to be surrounded by more snow and wind.

We stopped at a visitor's center for lunch, and watched a half-hour National Geographic IMAX film titled "Grand Canyon: The Hidden Secrets." Unsure of whether or not to see the movie, the tour coordinator told us, "It will be the best $12 you've ever spent. I used to tell people that if they saw it and thought it wasn't worth the $12 bucks, they could call me and I would refund their money...then a group of 58 people called and wanted their money back." With such a rousing recommendation, we all decided to see the movie, and it was totally worth every penny, definitely the best IMAX film I've ever seen. I would go so far as to say it was better than seeing the actual canyon, because the footage of the inner canyon walls and whitewater rapids is something we wouldn't be able to see. You also learn about the history of exploration in the canyon, and how the canyon is still relatively untouched by modernity, an untamed pièce de résistance by Nature. If you visit the South Rim of the Grand Canyon, definitely make a point to stop and see this movie.

We have arrived! You can't see the ground, but it was treacherously icy near the edge, and my mom was freaking out about one of us slipping and falling underneath the railing.

Mather's point, the widest part of the Grand Canyon

This area is where ~90% of photos of the Grand Canyon are taken

Group shot in front of a stagecoach with everyone except Uncle Thuan

Stanley and Marilyn sword fighting with hiking sticks in a gift shop, luckily we didn't get kicked out.

Stanley pretending to be a unicorn. Icicles were an immense source of fascination for the Cali kids.

Sunset over the Grand Canyon, framed by picture-perfect snow-covered pine trees

Signs

In case you weren't aware, sex sells. Here's a selection of signage from the Strip:

At the M&M World store, four floors chock-full of M&M golf tees and poker chips

Paris (casino) is filled with lots of Frenglish, like "Le Car Rental"

This moving billboard and one for Chippendale's moved up and down the Strip, but I couldn't find the stripper mobile, alas.

The line for this nightclub was pretty intimidating, my pi t-shirt would not have passed muster.

Somehow I didn't realize that shrimp cocktail actually came served in a cocktail glass until this trip.

I did a double take when I saw this leaflet because at first glance I thought it said "barely legal asian blondes." That would win points for most specific porn demographics ever in my book.

Dirt Cheap Hostels in Tokyo

Per popular demand, I'm going to discuss what accommodations were like in Tokyo.

The guidebooks tend to steer you towards traditional hotels, which are rather pricey, even the ones which are marked as "affordable," or to ryokans, or traditional Japanese inns, which are also pricey though they usually include meals and a chance to sleep on tatami mats and futons. Personally, my goal is to minimize lodging costs as much as possible subject to getting some sleep and not getting bedbugs. In Tokyo, there are capsule hotels, which consist of a closed capsules only slightly larger than the Seinfeld dresser drawers, stacked on top of one another. While this is truly a one-of-a-kind Tokyo experience, they are geared towards businessmen and many don't accept women, or relegate you to the top floor. Plus, they aren't that cheap for what you get. So, I decided to bypass this option.

With some googling, you will find there are many hostels for backpackers and young travelers located in Asakusa. While this area does have attractions worthy of your time, Asakusa is located in the far northeast corner of the city, and it will take some time to get from one end to the other.

Instead, I chose to stay at the Sakura Hotel, located in central-east Tokyo near the Jinbocho station, and at the Ace Inn, located in central-west Tokyo near the Akenobashi and Yotsuya Sanchome stations. Both have English language websites and seemed like promising places to park my bags.

The Sakura Hotel offers single rooms (¥6,000), doubles (¥8,000) and triples, but they also have 6-person dorm rooms in the basement level for ¥3150 if you make your own bed, which is what I chose to do. The room, bathroom and premises were quite clean, and the blanket was this lovely, fluffy comforter that I wanted to curl up inside and never emerge from. You could rent a towel for ¥100, the wifi was free and very fast, and several computers in the lobby were available for (I think) ¥100 for 15 minutes use. For ¥315, you could get breakfast in the morning (unlimited coffee, tea and toast) but I picked up food elsewhere. The other lodgers were very friendly and tended to be in college age or in their 20s. It was very easy to meet people and find dinner mates. The front desk staff were very friendly, spoke English, and supplied me with a 3 prong converter for my laptop while I was there.

The Ace Inn offers capsule-like beds for around ¥4,000, but if you choose the 12-person mixed dorm, you will get a bed for ¥2,000 on their 10th floor which is a regular dormitory. This is simply a room with 12 beds in it, including two futons in an adjoining tatami room. The beds are not bunked, which gives you a little more space away from your dorm mates. Everyone was courteous and friendly, however since there are on average 8 people sleeping in the room every night, there is a fair amount of noise as people enter and leave. Hopefully, unlike me, you are not a light sleeper. There is a lounge on the 9th floor with a TV, and it is very easy to meet gregarious Australians there. Bicycles are available for rent for ¥500, and you will have a better selection the earlier you arrive. Wifi is free and there are computers in the lobby that you can use for free for 30 minutes. The hostel also sponsors tours to museums or other attractions for ¥500. My biggest complaint here is that the toilets were not very clean, and were often out of soap or toilet paper. The showers downstairs are ¥100 for 10 minutes and these seemed clean enough. There is free soap, shampoo, and towels. There is a lock-out period from 2-4:30 am, but if you tell them ahead of time that you are going out they'll let you in during that period.

Both hostels were located in semi-residential neighborhoods with not a lot going on after 9 pm. Then again, aside from Shibuya and Roppongi, not a lot is going on anywhere in Tokyo after 9 pm. Sakura Hotel was very close to 3 train lines, whereas the Ace Inn was close to the Shinjuku train line, which is run by the Toei company. Since I often used the all-day Metro pass (¥700) for transportation, this meant I had to walk 5-10 min to the Yotsuya Sanchome station, which is run by the Metro company. Not a big deal, but slightly more inconvenient than the Sakura Hotel location.

Neither place offered lockers in their dorms, though you could store luggage behind the front desk. I decided to have some faith in humanity and leave everything unlocked under my bed, including my laptop. Nothing was stolen. I love Japan.

Yebisu Beer Museum

Yebisu Brewery is now part of Sapporo, however the name lives on in museum adjacent to Sapporo headquarters. The first thing I did here was to give away the flowers from ikebana class to the girl at the Yebisu gift shop. After some charades, I managed to convey that she should take the flowers home with her if she liked them. Judging from the smile on her face, I'd like to think they didn't end up in the trash.

Having toured a decent number of breweries, I'd say this museum's display were lackluster (some timelines on the history of beer, old advertisements, a giant brewing vat), but the tasting room at the end lets you try four beers for ¥500. Overall, Japanese beers tend towards the light, crisp, one might even say, bland, side of the spectrum, but then again, we're not in Germany so I won't complain.

The more interesting part of this excursion was when I plopped my tasting tray down on a table and took my camera out. A voice emanated from behind: "Say, would you like a photo of yourself with the beer?" I acquiesced and the gentleman introduced himself. "Hey, I'm John, would you like to come sit over here? Because I hate drinking alone." We were both clutching copies of Lonely Planet Tokyo (my bible for this week). John, as it turned out, was a seasoned traveler who was in town for a few days while his wife was on business. He was Canadian, currently living in Munich, and heading to Sydney and then somewhere in SE Asia in the next week. Among other stories, he regaled me with this anecdote from Egypt (amounts are approximate):

"I was in Cairo talking to a cab driver, and he mentioned that he needed to save money. I asked, for what? He said, well, to buy a woman. I said, wait, what? He replied, well if I have $750, I can get a woman who is widowed with two kids. If I have maybe $1000, I can get a woman who is widowed with one kid. And if I have $1500, I can get a woman who is single without children. So, I asked him, what would you do with $2000? He looked at me and said, well, then I would buy a camel."

Navigating in Tokyo

Unlike some classic cities laid out on grids (cough Chicago), Tokyo's addressing system has no rhyme or reason. Well, the addresses are given in terms of wards, chome (city district), block and building number. And the building numbers were given in the order of their constructions, so they are generally not consecutive (a lot of things were razed in the 1940s...). Wait, what? How the hell to the Japanese find anything around here? As it turns out, they do a fair amount of bumbling around too, but at least they speak and read Japanese. So, what's it like for a nearly illiterate gaijin (foreigner) to navigate the city? For an exercise in masochism, I decided to go to Kanda Soba Noodle (it was recommended by an article in Metropolis) armed with nothing but the address: 2-10 Kanda Awaji-cho and the recommended subway station (Ogawamachi). No maps, no directions, nada.

I stepped out of the Ogawamachi station on the Ginza line and immediately regretted my decision. Street signage was in Japanese and I had no idea which direction I was headed. Spotting a koban (police station), I waltzed in and asked, "Eigo o hanashimasu ka?" The two officers sitting behind the desk announced resolutely, "No Engrish." My heart sank. I gave them the address I was looking for and they managed to convey the general direction I should head. (Giving directions via charades is surprisingly difficult.) I walked off and soon found myself lost in another part of town. By this time, I'd started noticing the small green signs that denote chome on street light poles. Ok, I can just follow those because they're numbered consecutively right? 2-16, 2-20, 2-7, 2-8, 2-13...dammit. An hour or so passed and my frustration was rising.

As I stood on a corner with furrowed eyebrows, a woman approached me and asked if I needed help. I quickly explained that I was American and was a bit lost. "Ah, I thought you were Japanese!" "No, just Chinese and American," I said. "Do you know where Kanda Yabu Soba is?"
Her eyes immediately lit up and she grinned. "Ohh, Yabu Soba!!" she exclaimed, as she made eating motions with her hands. Within a few minutes, she walked me a couple blocks away, where she pointed to a sign with directions to the restaurant. I was pretty much kissing my knees bowing to thank her.

Following the signage on the street light poles, I soon came across a wooden fence and a woman vigorously hosing down the sidewalk. "Kanda Yabu Soba desu ka?" I asked. "Hai," the woman answered. However, the restaurant was closed for another hour. I groaned.

Conclusion: Print out maps of the places you're trying to find. Make sure major streets are marked in both Japanese and English. Learn how to understand directions in Japanese. And finally, check the hours of the business you are trying to find.

It's a Small World

In less than 2 hours in Tokyo, I have already met a couple guys...from Chicago...and we have a friend in common (a Fed AE). Good thing I went halfway around the world to hang out with people who live in my state. Yay for not having Dinner for One tonight!

Tokyo!

Though street crime is relatively low in Japan, quirky camouflage designs like this vending-machine dress are being offered to an increasingly anxious public to hide from would-be assailants.

I know I've been pretty quiet lately (life has been busy), however, prepare to be deluged with posts in the next 10 days as I venture off to Japan and report to you guys on how life looks from the Future.

Sweet Carolina

The one thing North Carolina has in common with London is its fervent observation of God's day...MF and I were heartbroken when we got to Stamey's barbeque for lunch and found shuttered doors.

Erik and Ricky have been gone for less than two months, but as I regaled them with tales from Chicago, it felt like they'd missed out on light years of information. It's funny how we've gone from having a wholly shared experience for the last two years, to simply filling in and recapping the major highlights. It's even funnier how the Crew has carried on and revitalized in the aftermath of many departures.

Most of my social activities are spent with a nerdy, Fed-centric crowd, but hanging out with Erik's econ grad school buddies was a new level of nerd. At the James Joyce tavern, we debated the best version of Risk (Lord of the Rings?), the appropriate frequency of showering, and the greatness ordering of Mas-Colell, Green and Whinston (the authors of the seminal grad textbook in microeconomics).

The grad cohort appears to have self-segregated into study groups of Asians (both international and not), Mormons, and All Others. Apparently, there are strong ties between BYU and the econ department at Duke.

Finally, Cornell Plantations, move over. The South wins hands-down for the beauty of their gardens. I explored the Greensboro Arboretum, some parks, and the Duke Gardens while I was here, and the latter in particular was jaw-droppingly gorgeous. Look at those giant lily pads! I wanted to curl up on a lily pad and take a nap.

Things that I have acquired today

1. Wedding present for Emily: matching Woot Shirts. Normally this kind of thing would make me gag, and I have no idea if she + hubby would actually wear them, but I don't really care because this present amuses me. The Suess-y artwork is also a plus. Besides, I never buy gifts from the registry. Other items I was considering include a bloodied chef's knife and tickets to the Louisville production of A Chorus Line (the Oct run is not on sale yet, wtf).
   



2. Google Voice number: In case you haven't been following this, in an ever onward quest to take over the world, Google is moving into phone and voicemail services. You can get a phone number through Google and link your mobile/cell/office number to this number, then tell your contacts to call the Google Voice number. This thereby frees you to switch numbers as you please, and you could foreseeably use this phone number for the rest of your life. I finally got an invitation to set up a gVoice number, and then faced the quandary of what to choose for my number. Like any good nerd, I started looking for numbers like 314-1592. Unfortunately, all the good variations of pi, e and the golden ratio appeared to be taken. There were also no numbers with the words "crystal," "cyclist" or "foodie." So, then I typed in:
   True, it is a dirty Jersey area code, but this was better than being stuck with something from say, Wyoming or Mississippi.


3. Plane tickets to Tokyo: Singapore Air is doing a special on roundtrip airfare to Tokyo from LAX for $473. Yeah, that's right. Somehow in the last 24 hours after Liz discovered this deal, we managed to convince ourselves that not taking advantage of this sale would be a travesty, and perhaps even a crime. So, we'll be trekking to Tokyo and Kyoto in November. I've already got my "Japanese in 30 Days" phrase book. Fugu, here we come!
   

Living Across the Pond, or "I'm never staying in a hostel again!"

Fifth and final post in a series of posts about Europe

As I stepped off the plane at Heathrow, I loudly exclaimed, "Man, I could really go for a bagel right now. Have they got those here?" Megan replied, "That sounds delish. Screw this, let's go back to New York." Two people immediately turned their heads and gaped at us agog.

In all seriousness though, for all the idolatry we accord to Europe, the U.S. and NYC have plenty to offer. Why then, should I traipse all the way across an ocean to a country where my dollars suddenly have 2/3 of their original buying power? Well, for the moment, let me wax on like one of Those People who studied abroad and say that it forever changed their lives: Visiting another country completely brought me out of my isolationist shell, and opened my eyes to the possibilities of an alternate worldview. I now understand much more clearly the hurdles facing diverse policymakers, and the gains to be won through greater international cooperation.

Eh, who are we kidding? You should go to Europe for the pretentious bragging rights, end of story. In case you are interested though, I did learn a thing or two across the pond.

1. Space is a luxury: Okay, this is also true of NY and any other US city. But overall, we are accustomed to bigger closets, bigger rooms and bigger cars, while there must not be any claustrophobic people in Europe. Our accommodations in London were at the Clink hostel, adroitly named because it was a former jail. We were assigned a "cell" and though living in a prison cell sounded cool in theory, in practice it would be uncomfortably cozy for three people with luggage. When we saw the size of the room, Megan exclaimed, "I'm never staying in a hostel again!." (To which Matt and I said, "So...tube hotel in Japan?") We immediately established a house rule that if anyone needed to do #2, they should feel free to ask the rest of us to leave the room. The only way to wash my face in the narrow sink basin was to squeeze my head under the shelf. There was nowhere you could possibly sit or stand comfortably while in the room.
   
   Actually, given the savings, I'm a little surprised that there isn't more of a market for cheap, hostel-type accommodations in the U.S. There are a handful of hostels in major cities, but for the most part, we expect and demand at minimum enough space to walk around the bed. Parking was similarly tight, and I saw cars hitting other bumpers regularly. Smart cars abounded; I am curious as to whether these will take off in the US, given that they would be perceived unsafe in accidents with SUVs on the road.
2. Biking culture is thriving: Again, no surprise here, given the constraints on parking, space and the price of petrol. Both cities had bike lanes marked on main thoroughways, and plenty of commuters using them. I was disappointed to see that many of Paris' bike lanes were actually on sidewalks though. This is much less safe than incorporating bike lanes into roads, and significantly increases the probability of accidents (albeit with pedestrians rather than cars). In contrast, London's bike lanes were clearly marked and always in traffic. Plus, we even caught the tail end of the London Naked Bike Ride. I thought about renting a bike for a spell in London, but decided it'd be too difficult to navigate on the left side of the road, since I could barely understand the flow of traffic as a pedestrian. Luckily, London marks its intersections with handy directions:
   
   
   
3. The London Tube is the greatest public transportation system. Ever: The Underground is a marvel of engineering and a thing of beauty, and if I were an objectum sexual, I would marry it. It is clean and fast, with clear signage, broad coverage and a sophisticated, low-cost pricing scheme. It is superior to any other train system I have seen, particularly compared to Paris' Metropolitan system, which was an abysmal wreck of smelly, slow trains with confusing signage. Also, you have multiple options for free newspapers near tube stops. I was a big fan of the London Lite, and was able to keep up with my Obama news that way. (Michelle, Sasha and Malia were visiting at the same time we were.)
   Just how amazing is the tube? It is so amazing that even when the tube is supposed to be on strike, they were still running several lines and we were able to take the train home. Perhaps they should take a lesson from France. Tube, 1 - Labor union, 0.
4. Rational pricing schemes for beverages: We were sort of up in arms over the price of soda (Matt paid €6 for a Fanta), but I could get a mojito for €3,50 or a glass of wine for €2-3. Upon second thought though, this makes sense because an abundance of wine is locally produced, and corn production (and high fructose corn syrup) is not heavily subsidized the way it is in the U.S. In fact, I would be strongly in favor of raising the price of soda in this country and getting rid of these corn subsidies because it would limit soda consumption and be a boon to public health.
5. Despite concerted efforts to meet locals, you will attract the attention of every other American within earshot: Over the course of the trip, we met people from diverse nationalities such as Connecticut, Virginia, Philly, Chicago. One night, we ventured to a gay bar in Marais, where there was only one table available...and the occupant was a gay man from Alabama. He helpfully gave us advice on places to shop in Paris, and raved about the French police. "Mmm, they are sooo hot!" Further, you will speak with your fellow Americans and conclude how banal and un-unique your trip is, since you've been visiting the exact same places.

6. There is nothing to do in Paris besides people-watch: All right, not entirely true, but since we didn't speak the language (ruling out the theater options that we'd had in London), after exhausting our list of monuments to see, we were at a bit of a loss over what to do on Friday night. Out of energy and money, we plopped down on a bench in the Latin Quarter next to a fountain and people-watched. And by that, I mean, other people snapped pictures of us (we're pretty darn multiculturally picturesque, I must say). Then, by perfect chance, Matt and Allison walked by (a couple tourists that we'd met in London). We marveled over the coincidence and then talked about spending the day at the Louvre. (See #5.)

Overall, I must say that though I liked both cities, London edges out Paris for its superior public transportation system, cleanliness and diversity. Paris bests its British counterpart with superior food, scenery and cheap alcohol, though the price of nearly everything else is exorbitant.

Food and Drink, or "I'll have the jalfrezi muffin please."

Fourth in a series about Europe

Given their stature in classical gastronomy, I had very high hopes for Parisian cuisine and figured that the Brits would, erm, come through with a good ale or two. For the most part, these assumptions were accurate, with Paris serving up consistently excellent meals with London dining being a bit spottier. At any rate, I proudly waved my tourist flag and took photos of most of my meals (who wants to see the Eiffel Tower when you can look at this gorgeous steak tartare?). Without further ado:

We begin on the Aer Lingus flight across the Atlantic, where passengers were offered the scintillating choice of chicken or beef. The beef ravioli seemed like it could be the riskier choice, but after overhearing from a stewardess that the beef was better, I decided to take a gamble. Here we have a pretty decent carton of ravioli topped with cheese, a roll, a side salad, a piece of cheesecake, and a plastic cup of water. I was so hungry by this point that everything tasted terrific, and I was only slightly bothered by the way the ravioli pieces had all stuck together. After finishing my meal, I proceeded to carefully stack and place everything on the tray into the ravioli tin. When the flight attendant came by to pick it up, she exclaimed, "This is the tidiest tray I've ever seen! I wish they were all as neat as you."

Our free breakfast at the Clink hostel consisted of toast and the worst cereal I have ever had in my life. They had combined rolled oats with some cocoa crispies and other stuff, which resulted in a not quite granola, not quite oatmeal amalgamation. Plus, the milk was warm and tasted like 10%. At least they had a nice, tart blackcurrant jelly.

London definitely wins over Paris for greater diversity of food offerings. Though the restaurant scene is dominated by pubs serving pies and chips, Asian and Middle Eastern restaurants abounded on every street corner. Pictured above is the commonly seen genre of Sushi Deli Cafe. If I had more time, I would have definitely tried eating at Wok in a Box, purely for the ingenuity of the name.

Haché Burger in Camden Market bills itself as London's favorite burger (as awarded by TimeOut London) and offers a menu of upscale burgers. The name comes from bœuf haché, or ground beef in French. I tried the Steak Catalan burger, topped with chorizo, chili and tomato jam. Not surprisingly, ketchup was not provided though we had three kinds of mustard. Matt was upset.

Aside from the usual clothing and trinkets stalls, Camden Market has a few fresh fruit and produce vendors. Since the prices are in £/kg, I couldn't gauge how expensive items were in comparison to the U.S. Having eaten mostly carbs nonstop for the trip, Megan and I decided to indulge in something healthy for a change, and grabbed peaches for 20p each.

Camden Market has dozens of food stalls, each one wafting lip-smacking aromas and often passing out free samples. Within five yards, you could pick up all manner of Indian, Thai and Moroccan food for dirt cheap. Even the faux (Britishized?) Chinese food looked delicious.

Brick Lane is the hot spot for London's Indian and South Asian restaurants, or as they call it, the place to go for "currying." Each restaurant is manned outside by a host of sorts, who will try to twist your arm and convince you to come to his restaurant. They are incredibly persistent, almost to the point of being intimidating. In speech after speech, we were regaled with the awards that each restaurant had won, the luminaries who had dined there previously, the specials for the day (only £7.95 for 3 courses!), and oh yes, we would even get a free round of drinks.

Earlier, we'd stopped to ask someone for directions, and the guy recommended that we eat at Cafe Bangla. Unfortunately, as we approached the restaurant and patiently waited for their doorman to give us a spiel, he turned away and walked inside. Poppycock, we refuse to dine at a restaurant that isn't throwing specials at us! So, we went two doors down to the restaurant billing itself as Prince Charles' favorite. Upon being seated, we learned that the round of free drinks did not include alcoholic drinks, and that rice/naan counted as one of our three courses. Ah well.

Matt had been making a fuss over not liking Indian food (some lame story about food poisoning), but we decided to ignore his grumblings and drag him along, reasoning that he could go for something tame on the menu, like mango chicken. After Megan and I carefully negotiated what we were jointly ordering and splitting (tandoori chicken, vegetable curry, lamb naan, a curry with lychee, coconut rice), we asked Matt what he planned to get. "I think I'll order the jalfrezi," he responded. "Wait, what? The jalfrezi?" said Megan. "Not to doubt you, but that is one of the spiciest dishes on the menu! Are you sure??" Matt sniffed and said hotly, "I can handle spicy foods! Look, this one's listed as very hot, so it's not even as bad as this dish which is listed as extremely hot." Our server approached and as I ordered the (mild) fruity curry and coconut rice, he definitely gave me an "aww, coconut rice, that's cute" kind of smirk. On the other hand, as Matt ordered the jalfrezi, the server gave him an "Ooh, badass!" kind of wink. Harumph.

The food turned out to be not very spicy at all, and even the jalfrezi was probably only a 3 on the Taste of Thai scale. Overall, a bit disappointing and not one of the best Indian meals I've had. Perhaps Cafe Bangla doesn't need to exhort customers to come inside for a reason?

As we walked down the street after dinner, we continued to be accosted by Indian men demanding that we try their restaurant. "No thanks, we've already had dinner," we said. "Come have another!" they would reply.

Further down the street was an Indian confectionary shop, the first one I've ever been inside. The proprietor helpfully gave us suggestions on what to try. Unfortunately, I can't remember the names of the items he pointed out.

For the most part, everything we tried tasted like a variant on halvah, a dense, chalky sweet with origins in the Middle East, made with a semolina or tahini base.

In Paris, I ordered a croque-monsieur for my first meal. Essentially, this is a hot ham and cheese sandwich with a strong Emmental on top. It was a heart attack on a plate, and the cheesiest thing I've eaten since Hot Truck. In the background, you can see the bottle of Perrier that I ordered by accident. Later, I would be sure to insist upon un carafe de l'eau non-gazeuse.

I gamely ordered the steak tartare at the Café de la Musique (where we thought there would be live jazz, but Fodor's once again proved to be wrong). Yes, that is raw beef. And it was delicious, especially when spread upon toast like a paté. I tried to argue that eating raw beef was no different than eating sushi, but somehow this wasn't logical to the rest of the group. To the naysayers who said I would come down with mad cow disease, I am still quite hale and hearty, and intend to live long enough to try fugu in Japan. Besides, in the spectrum of wacky foods, I still think the maggot-infested casu marzu cheese is far worse.

We ventured to Le Refuges des Fondues for dinner in Montmartre, where they had no qualms about handing us lots of wine while seated next to cauldrons of bubbling oil and cheese. Megan had inordinate amounts of difficulty getting the meat to stay on her fondue fork (it kept sticking to the bottom of the pot), and eventually gave up and stuck to the bread and cheese.

Megan feeding Matt a piece of bread since they were in a "relationship" at this point

One of Matt's earliest discoveries was the café chocolat viennois, or Insanely Decadent coffee with chocolate shavings and a ginormous pile of whipped cream. After ordering this, he attracted a number of stares from neighboring tables.

Our hotel in Paris did not include breakfast, so every morning we went around the corner to this boulangerie, where I would pick up my pain au fromage. Luckily, our bakers were quite patient as we stumbled over our orders with badly pronounced French. As soon as I got home, I went to the store and bought a baguette, but it wasn't nearly as good.

I didn't get a chance to try any of the pastries, but they looked quite tasty.

Matt will attest that the chocolate croissants are awesome as well.

Outside of Versailles, we had lunch at a crêperie. The menu was divided into sections for crêpes and galettes, and I was under the impression that a galette was more of a tart, the way that a fruit galette is a tart using pâte brisée. Megan wanted a savory crêpe, but since the crêpe section only listed sweet toppings, she ended up ordering a crêpe topped with nuts and ice cream. As it turns out, galette can also refer to a savory crêpe made with buckwheat batter. Oops. Pictured above is my ratatouille galette, filled with a tomato-based vegetable stew. For the rest of the afternoon, we teased Megan about ordering an ice cream sundae for lunch.

Marais is both the gay district and the Jewish quarter in Paris. We'd heard that L'As du Falafel makes a mean falafel pita, and it was indeed delicious, a colorful sandwich of falafel, red cabbage, cucumber and tahini sauce. Their hand-pressed (and pricey) lemonade is also supposed to be excellent. Too bad they brought the lemonade at the very end of the meal without so much as a word of apology, which infuriated Megan to no end. She spent the next hour fuming about how she would've given our server a piece of her mind if she spoke French. Parisian restaurants, 2 - Megan, 0.

Back in London, we went to Costa's Cafe for lunch. The first time we tried to eat there, we were starving and barged in without noticing that workmen were laying tiles on the ground. "Can't you see that we're closed??" they barked. This second attempt was a bit more successful, I daresay. Megan ordered an avocado club sandwich, which looked more like a party tray. Sadly, she was unable to finish it.

My vegetable omelet sandwich was also pretty expansive, and at £3.50, great bang for the pound. If I lived in the neighborhood, I'd come here every day.

Passing through a street market with food stalls immediately after lunch, I felt pangs of regret that we hadn't come here instead. They had a 4-foot pan of seafood paella! And tons of local cheeses, jams and pastries! I held back and unnecessarily bought only one item, arancini (fried risotto balls) served with chili sauce. The sauce was actually one of the best chili sauces I've ever had, sort of a mixture of basil pasta sauce and Sriracha.


Our last supper was at the Rock and Sole Plaice, one of Erik's recommendations. (The punny name is an added bonus.) This outfit specializes in fish & chips, and you can choose from half a dozen types of fish, including cod, halibut, rock and skate. A piping hot styrofoam carton filled with a large battered fish fillet and potato wedges was handed to me. Mmm, I began to understand the British obsession with fish and chips. Doused with a generous sprinkling of salt and vinegar, there was no need to add tartar sauce or any other condiments. Is this where the salt & vinegar chip flavor originated from?